


it is us i see (and i cannot believe i'm falling)

by remuslupin



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Jughead Jones, Demiromantic Jughead Jones, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fourth of July, HE'S ACE OK THE TAG SAYING OTHERWISE CAN FIGHT ME!!!!, Homeless Jughead Jones, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, Road Trips, archie is a big ol sap in this, im so gay and i also love my gay sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslupin/pseuds/remuslupin
Summary: au where arch & jug really do go on that road trip.





	it is us i see (and i cannot believe i'm falling)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this fic for like a month & now i'm almost sad that i've finished it? i feel like i went on that whole trip with them hoo boy, love my children
> 
> anyway this is for my friend marissa's birthday!!! HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY YOU MEME I LOVE YOU!!!!!
> 
> also, i'm fully aware that archie is probably too young to drive all the way to centerville by himself (in the official comic one-shot, it says that they were planning to take the bus), but i wanted an Actual Roadtrip Fic so HERE YOU GO, ENJOY, VALIDATE ME AND COMMENT TOO THx

Sparrows chirp out messy melodies as Jughead sits upon the cool metal bench outside the Drive-In’s projection booth, his jeans soaking up the damp morning dew. It has not been long since darkness finally surrendered to the light, and this morning’s sunrise is a breathtaking display of radiant colors. Bright streaks of red, pink, and orange had slowly overwhelmed the dark blue and purple of the twilight sky until it came to resemble a prism, colors blending perfectly into each other.

He’d say he’s up _early,_ but he hasn’t exactly slept at all.

Thoughts of Archie have been circulating in his head since he had sat opposite Jughead in his regular booth at Pop’s with wide eyes and an excited smile, agreeing to his spontaneous suggestion that maybe, just _maybe,_ they could travel down to Centerville and watch the annual Fourth of July fireworks. The screen on his phone lights up with a silent alarm— the clock reads 6:20AM, and he stares for a moment before shoving the device into his pocket and standing up with a quiet exhale.

The walk to Pop’s, backpack slung over his shoulder, is quiet. He trudges along the pavement at a sedate pace, mind focused on the gentle footsteps that seem to echo throughout the desolate street. With each step that Jughead takes, he comes closer to thinking of Jellybean, and his parents, and everything that he’s been meaning to _come clean_ to Archie about.

When he turns a corner and finds his friend huddled against his truck in the parking lot of the diner, however, the thought is laid to rest for the time being. “Hey,” he starts after closing the distance between the two of them, shoulder recklessly nudging against Archie’s. The contact sends a chill rippling down his spine, and he has to take a step back to recover. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

“Me?” Archie laughs, easily reaching forward and tugging Jughead’s bag from his grip so that he may transfer it to the cab of the truck instead. “ _You’re_ the late one, Jug.”

Jughead scowls, but is unable to force the expression to linger. “Which is a miracle, truly. Did someone move your clock _forward_ by an hour? You’ve _never_ been on time.”

“What can I say? I’m a changed man.”

Unsurprisingly, Jug finds it impossible to think of a rebuttal to _that_ particular statement.

It’s exactly when he thinks that Archie is going to zig that he zags; his movements to open the car door being halted by a paper bag being held out to him. He opens it, and a smile is already sneaking onto his lips when his friend pipes up once more: “A cheeseburger with extra pickles. Your favourite.” It isn't until the neon lights of Pop’s are finally fading from the rear view mirror of Archie’s car, however, that Jughead really begins to get _excited_.

It's just like old times _._ Centerville is only a neighbouring town, but they take multiple stops anyway; stocking up on food at each gas station along the way and fiddling with the radio dial every few minutes and putting one movie on blast while simultaneously making plans to watch another— at _Archie’s_ place, of course.

“Dude, a _mixtape? Really?”_ Jughead laughs when Archie eventually produces an actual _cassette tape_ titled ‘Road Trip 2017,’ and inserts it into the provided slot beneath the dash of the truck.

“It's full of _classics_ , I swear.” Classics, indeed: although they may not have yet been given the designation by the stamp of time, the playlist contains many tunes that the pair had grown up to and come to love. Snoop Dogg, Gorillaz, and even _Newton Faulkner_ are among some of the artists and bands that feature, and Jughead almost feels as if they're both nine years old again and sitting in the back seat, entertaining themselves with games of I Spy and the portable DVD player as their _parents_ do the navigating.

When Kings of Leon begins to crackle through the speakers, mirroring smiles etch their way across the boys’ lips, and a touch of silence occurs after their fingertips collide in their simultaneous journey to turn up the volume dial. When they look at each other next, Jughead swears to himself that he’s just imagining the faint tinge of red creeping across Archie’s cheeks.

“Archibald,” Jughead declares at 12:17PM, eyeing his friend as he clambers back inside the car with his arms full of various gas station candy, “As much as I hate to say this, you _cannot_ survive on gas station candy for the entire day. I’m directing us to a _real_ restaurant.” He pulls out his phone with a dramatic sigh, and Archie sends one right back towards him as he turns his key in the car’s ignition and sends it roaring to a start.

Jughead’s trusted technology, however, seems to have deserted the pair after they pull into the nearby town, and after passing the same sign advertising an antique store for what must have been the umpteenth time, Archie finally speaks up once more. “I think the almighty Google has failed us.”

“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions,” Jughead begins to suggest, but Archie is already slowing down and pulling into a parking space, as if having read his thoughts. The brunette is smiling when they exit the car.

While Jughead makes a beeline for the counter when they step through the threshold, Archie begins to wander through the aisles, fiddling with various gizmos and letting out a low, appreciative whistle when he spots a few guitars.

“Can I help you?” A rather stout lady peers up at Jughead from behind thick glasses as he comes to a halt, and he nods, finally tearing his gaze away from his friend.

“Uh, yeah… I was actually wondering if you could give us directions.” The lady— Ursula— is immeasurably helpful in the end; even providing Jughead with a paper map that she uses to circle the diner’s location. Once he’s thanked her, he heads towards the line of shelves that Archie had disappeared into, and snorts when his friend finally appears in his line of vision, clutching a rather _large_ dinosaur bust. “Is this seriously an _antique_?” He asks, and Jughead laughs harder than he has in a long time.

Their business in the store, however, is evidently not quite over yet. “Before we go— I have to go to the bathroom. Wait for me?”

“Dude, can’t it wait until we have _food_?” Jughead asks, and Archie tosses the car keys towards him with a bark of laughter before taking another step back.

“There’s food in the car. I’ll just be a second.”

Their drive to the diner is navigated manually by Jughead as he stares down at the map in his hands, and they’re both feeling eager to get inside and have a burger (or _three)_ when they finally pull up outside the building. They each get two bites into their meal— burgers and fries, with milkshakes on the side— before Jughead swallows, and speaks up. “Nothing beats Pop’s.”

“ _Nothing_ beats Pop’s,” Archie confirms, casting a wide smile towards his friend. It feels nice to know that they share a small secret in this small town.

The weather is still sweltering by the time they finally roll past Centerville’s welcome sign, and the pair are all smiles and sweat, jackets tied around their waists as they find a parking spot and wander towards a street vendor to buy ice cream. When they get back to the truck, desserts half-devoured, they pull tartan blankets and old throw pillows out of the cab and continually transfer them to the cargo area until their makeshift seating area has been sufficiently padded. Archie clambers in first, and reaches back to help Jughead up once he’s found his own footing.

The two of them slowly get settled, sitting amidst unopened bags of chips and cans of soda, and Archie’s wiping a fresh wave of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand when Jughead finally speaks up. “Hey, Arch…"

“Yeah?"

“I need to—” He swallows heavily, watching on as his friend unceremoniously stuffs the remaining portion of his ice-cream cone into his mouth. “I need to tell you something.”

“Of course, man.”

He’s rehearsed it in his head over and over again. Now that he is face to face with Archie, however— lashes seeming _impossibly_ long and the sun catching the bronze tones of his hair in its light as it gradually dips below the horizon to their left— he can feel his throat closing up. His words catch in his throat like a pill that turns every one of his attempts to swallow into an unendurable feat, and when the lump refuses to make a departure even after another few moments of silence, Jughead forces himself to continue. “Things are _bad_ at home.”

“With... Your dad?”

“Yeah. He's been _drinking_ — he fell off the wagon— and it's only gotten _worse_ since your dad fired him. He hasn't had a job since. I…” A beat. “I left.”

“Jug…”

He pushes on before he can give himself enough time to to hear what Archie has to say, or catch sight of the _pity_ that must be smeared across his best friend’s expression, because if he allows the realisation that he's really saying this out loud to sink in, he'll probably _cry_ or do something equally _stupid_.

“I'm not blaming your dad— _God_ , I can't blame him— but I, uh… I wish he'd just given _my_ dad another chance.” And tears are welling, now, clouding his vision as he looks down at the soft blue denim of Archie’s jeans, the familiar brown interior of the pickup truck’s cargo area, his knuckles; bleached white by the amount of force that he's using to clench his fingers into a tight fist. He’s still blinking them away when he speaks up once more. “Dad kept promising to get his act together, but my mom couldn't take _that_ roller coaster anymore, so she grabbed Jellybean and went to live with our grandparents.”

“And she didn't _take_ you?” Archie asks, and the question clicks something into place which has been niggling quietly at the corner of Jughead’s mind for a very long time: why did his mother leave him behind?

Up until now, he'd just been glad that his mother had taken Jellybean with her— that his sister would be spared from watching FP’s slow descent back into complete and utter dependence on the drink that had once ruled his life and was slowly gearing to take its rightful place once more— but while he’s happy that he at least still has contact with his sister in the form of bi-weekly phone calls, he can’t help but to feel as if Gladys had given up on _him_ , as well as his father.

He’d asked to stay because he’d _believed_ in FP; he’d believed that his father would eventually pull himself out of the rut that he’d fallen into. Sometimes, however, Jughead found himself _wishing_ that his mother had put her foot down and had taken him anyway, had proven that she wanted the best for _both_ of her children.

He realises that he's crying (even after the _consistent denial,_ no less) only when Archie silently reaches forward and wipes a tear away.

Time inches by. They sit in quiet for a while longer; Archie patient, and Jughead unwilling to permit his friend the _sympathy_ he is no doubt burning with. In the lull between the rustling of fabric and the occasional hitch of breath, Archie’s hand lifts, and begins to rub generous circles into the fabric of Jughead’s shirt where it sits atop his back. There is a rush, a lot like the feeling that usually stirs up in Jughead after he rides a rollercoaster, as something tugs in his stomach, but he doesn't move.

“Where are you staying now?”

He exhales deeply through his nose. “The Drive-In. Dad thinks I'm couch surfing.”

“Screw that, Jug,” he returns, voice quiet and unsure and _sincere._ “Come and live with me.”

“I—” He goes to say that he _can't,_ that it's _temporary,_ but stops just short of allowing the words to come tumbling resolutely from his lips. If he didn't need help, why did he tell Archie?

“Come on. My house’s supply of hot dogs is just as big as the Drive-In’s.”

He wants to laugh. An even bigger part of him wants to _run_.

“Archie…”

“ _Jughead_.”

He glances up, and the words in his throat die as he locks eyes with his friend. “—Okay.”

All of a sudden, blue and silver lights explode in the sky. Jughead smiles, eyes wide and bright and _gleaming_ as he watches the bright lights paint Archie’s skin.

Although the redhead’s hand falls away from Jughead’s back, his fingertips linger, brushing along the skin of his arm. “I'd almost forgotten how cool these things looked in person,” he hums, turning to gaze up at the sky with a slight upward quirk of his lip.

“It’s certainly a cliche ending to summer,” he replies as Archie’s hand draws back. At the same time, something in Jughead’s chest calls out, _yearning_ to be touched again. “I feel like we stepped into _To Catch a Thief_ somewhere along the way to Centerville.”

“That's the rom-com, isn't it?” He still hasn't looked back at Jughead, which is why the brunette’s eyes widen when Archie’s fingers find his own in the dark. They squeeze carefully, before he speaks again. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“The happiest.”

“Good,” Archie starts, expression shining with something that Jughead would call _timidity_ if he didn’t know any better. “Because, Jug… _You_ make me—“

Another round of pops and bangs.  Another shower of light.

When Archie finally looks over, his brows furrow, drawn together in a troubled fashion over stormy eyes. Wetting his lips, he tightens his grip on Jughead’s hand and continues to stare, as if he wishes to take his features in completely and permanently.

There is something that feels a little like fear in Jughead’s chest, and a lot like hope. It pounds away under the cage of his ribs. He feels as if this had been mounting all day, and that with the clock ticking down to the moment where they’ll have to return to Riverdale, to _reality,_ he knows that he’ll have to address it sooner or later.

Before he has the chance to speak up, however, Archie is pulling something out of the pocket of his jeans with his spare hand and passing it to him. “I almost forgot… This is for you. I thought that you could maybe… Put it on your bag, or something.” A pause. “Happy Fourth.”

Jughead takes the small box, and reluctantly releases his grip on Archie’s hand so that he can prise the container open. When the lid has been removed, he peers inside to see an enamel pin, on which a firework composed of metal stars and dotted lines rests. “Cheesy,” he starts, brows quirking in a mixture of surprise and genuine _happiness_. “Arch… Thank you. When did you—”

“At the antique store.”

“ _Very_ sneaky.” Before he can say anything else, Archie reaches inside the box and retrieves the gift. He leans forward, and green showers of light illuminate the sky as he pins the accessory to the collar of Jughead’s shirt.

“Listen, Jug. I want—“ He scowls in frustration as his hands retract, as if he cannot quite fit the fragments of words that he wishes to convey into a complete sentence.  “I want to tell you something.”

Jughead swallows. More fireworks burst through the dark night, fiery blooms spiralling amongst the stars. “Yeah?”

“I think… I think I have feelings for you.”

Beneath his calm exterior, Jughead is _nervous_. The feeling starts with Archie’s words and sprouts beneath his ribcage (where his heart is), fluttering from one space to another as if they’re the checkpoints of a journey and causing the flow of his steadily pumping heart to speed up as it blooms outwards. His cheeks feel hot and his palms are feeling _grossly_ sweaty, but he swallows down the _excitement_ in his throat and forces himself not to go making assumptions when it comes to the king of hysterically awkward remarks.

“I just hope those feelings aren’t of hatred,” he comments, all too aware that his voice— light and happy and _hopeful_ — is likely giving him away.

“No! No, of course not. Jughead… I _know_ I haven’t been a great friend lately, but… I want our relationship to be _more_ than that. I might not be the perfect friend, but I… I think I could be a good boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Jughead repeats, unable to fully process Archie’s proposition until having repeated it in his mind no less than five times. “You… Want to be my boyfriend.” It’s a statement, but Archie replies as if it’s a question anyway.

“I… Yeah? Unless, ah… You don’t feel the same way, of course.”

“No, I— I do. Of course I do, Archie.” And before he knows it, Archie’s leaning in, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips and Jughead can _hear_ his pulse in his ears and suddenly there’s a hand pushing his hair away from his forehead—

Their lips meet, and Jughead’s heart explodes.

Almost immediately, his hands lift and settle on either side of Archie’s neck, thumbs cradling the redhead’s jaw as his eyes flutter shut. Archie, in turn, winds his arms around Jughead’s waist, and pulls him close as he pulls away, only to begin kissing him once more.

Jughead is the one who finally draws back, only to push their foreheads together for a brief moment and laugh quietly before letting out a quiet exhale. “You’ve just heightened this absolute cliche of a journey by like, _ninety_ percent, you know.”

“True. I don’t think you _minded_ too much, though.” Jughead’s flushed cheeks more than answer _that_ particular observation.

“I just… I didn’t know you _liked_ me like that,” he admits, shuffling a little closer to Archie until their arms are flush against each other and his head is close enough to put on the redhead’s shoulder; and when he finally musters up enough to do just that, something in his chest  _sings_.

“Jughead. I watched _Quentin Tarantino_ movies for you; I thought I'd made it pretty obvious.”

“What? You _love_ Tarantino. You've seen all his movies!”

They watch the rest of the display with identical smiles.

Despite their necessary parting once the fireworks end and they take up the task of putting away the blankets and food before finally clambering back into the cab, Archie’s hand reaches out once Jughead has buckled his seatbelt and winds his fingers through the spaces between the brunette’s own, allowing their hands to rest on the gearbox between them as he uses the other to turn the car key in the ignition.

The ride home is quiet. When Archie releases Jughead’s hand to finally turn on the radio, one of Maroon 5’s gentler songs is filtering through the speakers, and _She Will Be Loved_ eventually receives his approval after a moment of deliberation.

Jughead has (thinly) resisted the urge to nod off for what must be the twelfth time, beanie having been pulled from his head and clutched loosely in his hand, before Archie speaks again.

“Jug?”

He cracks an eye open, glancing over at the redhead. “Mmm?”

“I’m glad we did this.”

“Me too, Arch.” A genuine smile stretches across Jughead’s lips at that, and he squeezes Archie’s hand before pushing it back towards his side of the car. “Both hands on the wheel, doofus.”

* * *

 

_Love is strange. At some point, you just pick someone and think, “this one. I’ll let this one ruin my life forever.”_

_But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing._

_I wanted to tell him to take a detour while we were still driving, to alter our destination and head to another town, then another, and make it all last forever. Life, however, doesn’t usually pan out the way we want it to._

_Everything would change by the time we crossed Riverdale’s borders again, Centerville & it's fireworks aeons behind us. Another boy with fiery hair would capture our attention, having disappeared in Sweetwater river; another mystery would be introduced to us all. _

_These revelations, however, were problems that we would only be made aware of once the sun rose. For a moment_ — _just a moment_ — _we were a redheaded boy and the luckiest guy in the world, suspended in time and the romance of travel as we drove down the highway and beyond._

**Author's Note:**

> reviews/kudos are appreciated! hope you enjoyed!
> 
> SIDE NOTE: this is the pin that i imagined archie giving to jug! https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/520759619/vintage-red-white-blue-american-stars?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=fireworks%20enamel%20pin&ref=sr_gallery_5


End file.
